CHAPTER I
FIGHTING JONES
To David’s friends he was commonly known as “Fighting Jones”; but this name carried nothing of discredit with it; for, though the title had been earned by the not infrequent use of two good fists, the encounters had always been occasioned by a righteous cause--in protection of someone who was unable to defend his or her own interest.
The trouble was that the one higher up, the final authority as it were, had always decided against him. Sometimes words of sympathy, even approbation, had softened the rebuke that invariably followed each altercation; but in the final summing up he had never escaped the penalty.
David was downcast. It seemed as if the bottom had dropped out of everything. And as he mentally reviewed the events of the past ten minutes and speculated upon their consequences he knew that at last he had reached the very end of his tether. He had arrived at the parting of the ways; a break was plainly in sight; and at last he meant to assert himself.
His determined nature began to show itself so long ago as David could remember and probably before that. But he could recall the first difficulty in the kindergarten when one of the older and larger boys took advantage of his small size to deprive him of some cherished plaything. He never forgot that fight, nor the punishment he received at the hand of a stern father.
Later, years later, in high school, there had been the trouble when the principal had rebuked Miss Palmer, the instructor in Latin, before the whole class. The principal was a big, gruff man whose main attributes were to look stern at all times in an effort to instill discipline and to rejoice secretly when others showed signs of fear. He ruled by intimidation. Miss Palmer was meek and frail and when the lordly Mr. Davison assailed her she began to cry. That was too much for David. He calmly arose and informed the surprised Mr. Davison that he would never see any woman mistreated like that and if he did not stop at once and apologize he would knock his block off. Several of his classmates now came to his assistance. That precipitated a row. Result--David as ringleader of the mutiny was dismissed. Discipline had to be maintained.
He worried through school and college somehow or other. Then was forced into business by his father and tried hard to make good and was progressing in a satisfactory, so he thought, if not brilliant manner until----
Wellman, the chief engineer, was passing through the draughting room. David, busy at his board, was not even aware of his presence until he heard a muffled cough in back of him.
“Good morning, Mr. Wellman,” he said pleasantly, turning to greet his chief.
“How are the plans coming along?” the latter said abruptly. “I want to have the blue-prints struck off this afternoon.”
“They will be ready in an hour,” David returned. “I am just finishing the terrace.”
“Let me see!” Wellman adjusted his tortoise shell spectacles. “What scale?”
“Quarter inch.”
“What? Quarter inch?” One would have thought Wellman had been shot, the way he roared. “Didn’t I tell you to make it half inch?”
“I am sorry. I must have misunderstood. I will do them over.”
“Impossible. The superintendent must have the blue-prints tonight.”
“That is impossible too. I cannot do two days’ work in a few hours and do it right.”
“You’ll never know anything.” Wellman bellowed, while all the others in the office turned to see and hear what was going on.
“Now, look here,” David interrupted. “There is no excuse for your acting like that. You passed my table several times both yesterday and the day before and it seems to me as if you should have noticed the mistake then. Besides, I am sure you said quarter inch scale to begin with.”
“That’s right! that’s right! Blame it on me. You think you can do as you please because your father is president of this concern.” The chief was talking louder than ever.
“If it were not for your age I’d thrash you until you took that back.”
“Never mind my gray hair. Never mind my glasses; I’ll take them off. Here I am. Go to it. You are a privileged person around here. Do anything you like.”
Instead of replying, David threw down his drawing instruments and left the room. He headed straight for his father’s office. Arrived there he was told by a secretary to sit down in the ante-room; his father had given orders not to admit him until he should ring for him.
So! He knew about it already! Wellman had forestalled him by using the telephone. It was just as well that he had. His father would have the chief’s version of the affair and be ready to hear the other side of it.
A buzzer sounded and the secretary nodded to him to enter.
For a moment the elder Jones did not notice him. Then he turned abruptly in his chair and faced his son.
“What have you got to say?” he asked, not unkindly and rather sadly.
“Wellman told you what happened, I suppose.”
“Yes. He just called up. I want to hear your side of the matter.”
David gave an accurate account of the occurrence from beginning to end, while his father listened resignedly.
“Wellman is an old and valued employe, but I think this time he went too far. Disregarding the fact that you are my son, I am inclined to believe that you were not at fault--in fact, I am rather proud of the way you handled the situation. Still, that does not settle the issue. That office is too small for you and Wellman; so Wellman will have to go.”
David could not believe his ears and for a moment he was speechless.
“You don’t mean that you are going to fire him?” he asked finally.
“Yes. He went too far. The two of you would always be at odds after this and it would demoralize the whole department. I am sorry, but Wellman will receive his notice today.”
“I don’t want to see him lose his job. He is old and would have a hard time to find another. Why not keep him and let me out?”
“Because I want you to learn this business thoroughly; you may be called upon to take my place some day. You are just starting life. Your welfare is my first consideration.”
David saw his chance at last.
“If that is true,” he quickly interposed, “don’t start me on the wrong track. I do not want to stay in this business. I hate it. I tried to make good only to please you. If you are really thinking of my welfare, let me pick out my own work.”
“What is wrong with this? It offers most unusual opportunities for great and lasting success.”
“I know, but somehow or other I don’t seem to fit in. I dislike the city and all business. I want to go away where there is room to expand and to learn big things of another kind.”
“Remember the possibilities I just mentioned. You might some day erect a building taller than any of today or build a cathedral that would be a monument to your genius.”
“I would rather plow with a tractor and sow wheat; or herd cattle; or raise pigs than build anything no matter how great. I could put my whole heart and soul into that work and enjoy it. I want space to do my thinking and to develop in. I want green grass under my feet and a blue sky overhead. It is too crowded here. There are just as big things to be done in one place as in another.”
“Good gracious! Who put all that into your head? Or did you read it in some book?”
“It has just been growing on me and with me. I must get away from here. Let me work out my own future.”
“Suppose I should refuse to listen any further.”
“Then I am afraid I should go anyway, not right now, perhaps, but at some future time. The thought of all this is bigger than I am, and some day, soon, it would get the better of me and I should be compelled to go.”
“Well, well!” His father was obviously worried. “So you have made up your mind. You refuse to go back to your work here?”
“I should rather not. And, let Wellman stay.”
“I’ll see. Now you go straight home and wait for me there. This thing will have to be settled one way or the other.”
As David left the building his mind was filled with so many things that it was impossible to think clearly on any one of them. Two things kept recurring to him, however, because they had been so unexpected. The first was that his father had taken sides with him in the controversy, had admitted that he was right and that Wellman was in the wrong; he had even gone so far as to volunteer to discharge the old and valued employe. And the second was that for the first time his parent had indicated a willingness to seriously listen to the thing he felt best suited him and for which he was eager to sacrifice his enviable prospects as a man of the business world.
He could hardly wait to tell his mother. She had always been a sympathetic listener and while she had never greatly encouraged him in his ambition she had never discouraged him.
It was, therefore, a source of disappointment to him to find upon reaching home that his mother was not there. She had an appointment for luncheon, the cook informed him, and would go to a club meeting after that. It was impossible to draw any further information from the cook. David suspected that she knew more, but to his casual remark that she must have decided rather suddenly to go, there came no response. Evidently the cook had orders not to talk, so he did not question her further.
The afternoon seemed like a year. He tried to read a magazine; then a book, but after turning a few pages he was forced to admit that he did not know what he was reading about, so he closed it with a bang and calling Spike, his terrier, went for a walk in the garden.
David had just passed his twenty-first year. He was tall, of athletic build, with dark hair and eyes. There was the look of determination in his face that caused others instinctively to respect him. And his regular, pleasant features bespoke intelligence and breeding. If his natural bent could only be diverted into the proper channel, there was no question but that inborn ability and determination would make themselves felt, and in no uncertain manner.
His father and mother returned just in time for dinner. That there was anything unusual about this did not occur to David for, often when his mother chanced to be in the vicinity of the office in the late afternoon she dropped in and the two motored home together.
The conversation during the meal was a conventional one. It was not until later when the three were together in the library that the subject uppermost in David’s mind was broached.
“I have been talking this thing over with your mother,” his father began abruptly. “There is but one thing in our minds. Regardless of how we feel about it personally, we must consent to the course that seems best for your own good.”
David said nothing, but looked expectantly at his mother.
“Are you sure, David?” she asked in a low voice. “Is your mind made up definitely? Is there not the least possibility that you may want to reconsider? Remember you are young. A mistake may mean the loss of years, perhaps, that will never return. Here you have rare opportunities to make both name and fortune. It would be well to think of these things and to try to picture what it will mean to you to give up a certainty for an uncertainty, for you know very little about the course you are favoring.”
“I have thought of all that,” he said uncomfortably, “and I wish I could feel differently, for your sake. But I just can’t help it. I have always wanted to be out in the open where there is room to see and do things.”
For a moment nothing was said.
“Well,” his father finally ventured with a sigh, “then there is nothing for us to do but to give you the chance you think we owe you. Be sure that you are sure. Take a few weeks to think it over in. But you must promise one thing. If we let you go and you don’t make good or find out that you were mistaken after all, you will come back to the office and buckle down to hard work and never mention the subject again.”
“I don’t need the time; my mind is made up now. And, I promise; but I will get along all right and in the end you will be glad you let me try it.”
They insisted on the time for reflection, however, and during the two weeks that followed no mention was made of the matter. David did not go back to the office; he spent the days, and parts of the nights, too, in reading books on agriculture. These consisted mainly of government publications, long possessed and secretly cherished. He had read them so often that he was sure he knew all about farming and ranching; in fact, when he should use all this information together with some ideas of his own that he had worked out, he should greatly improve if not revolutionize the whole farming and ranching business.
When the two weeks had expired there was another council in the library.
“What is the verdict?” his father asked. “Will you go or will you stay?”
“I want to go just as soon as possible.”
“Have you considered the matter fully from all angles?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you still feel that your calling is out in the country?”
“Be absolutely sure of yourself before you answer,” his mother cautioned.
“I am sure. I feel that when I get away from the noise and hurry and confinement of the city I can accomplish more in a week than I could here in a year.”
“And, if after trying it you find that you have been mistaken?”
“I shall come back at once and do exactly as I promised.”
“That settles it. You shall have your chance and it will be a rare one even though you cannot realize at what cost to us.” He shot a quick glance at his wife; her eyes were glistening.
“The fact that we have known of your ambition for a long time does not make it easier for us, for you will be far, far away. That alone will give you the opportunity to show your mettle. I think it best that it should be so, for you will be thrown entirely upon your own resources. Either you will become discouraged quickly and come back ready to take our advice, or you will do big things.”
“Where?” David asked in an awed voice. “Where am I going?”
“To South America, because there real opportunities exist for the right man.”
“South America?”
“Yes. Dan Rice, a former client of mine, has a ranch in the Argentine. He went down fifteen years ago. He was a born stock man and made a huge success of the venture. I enquired about him and learned that he is opening a new place in Brazil, somewhere in the Upper Amazon country, above the city called Manaos. I shall send you to him. If ever there was a person who could judge men and get the best out of them, Rice is the one. What do you say?”
“I don’t know what to say except to thank both of you for letting me go. It is better than I even dreamed of. It will be wonderful!”
“Good! I only hope you will not be too greatly disappointed when you get there.”
They continued the discussion far into the night; but the thing the elder Jones did not tell his son was that he had already sent cablegrams to Rice in Manaos in an attempt to make arrangements for his coming. A very short time in the steaming and insect-infested tropics would be sufficient to cause a change of heart, he felt sure. The fact that he was in a wild country thousands of miles away from home and among strangers would hasten it and make it more emphatic. And, once his illusions were dispelled, David would be ready to settle down and do as he was told.
As for David, he was too elated for words. “I am going at last,” he kept repeating to himself. “My luck has changed! My luck has changed!”
But David was quite forgetful of the fact that there are two kinds of luck, good and bad; and that the former seldom lasts long, while the latter is inclined to linger with a most disheartening persistency, and then grow worse.
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